Lost II: The Lost Boy
by Sim Spider
Summary: Sequel to Losing You. You've read about Gibbs' experiences; this is Tony's story. COMPLETE!
1. A Shot in the Dark

Disclaimer: I still don't own Tony or NCIS.

The (not very) long awaited sequel to Losing You is here! It would have been up sooner, but my internet's been down again.

Many many thanks to all the faithful reviewers of the previous story; I hope you like this one too.

A couple of general notes to reviewers…

1) Tony's eye colour:

If you watch Jeanne giving Tony a concussion check in Bury Your Dead in slow mo, she shines her little torch right in his eye so you can see exactly what colour it is; blue with a splodge of golden brown. So from a distance, they might appear to be green, but trust me on this, they aren't.

2) ECWS

Evil Cliffhanger Woman Syndrome. I am a severe case; I find it very hard to end chapters without cliffs. You have been warned.

/\/\/\

Losing You Part II: The Lost Boy

Chapter 1: A Shot in the Dark

/\/\/\

"_You… really think Tony's alive, Gibbs?"_

"_Never believed he was dead, Abbs." _

/\/\/\

Two months earlier…

/\/\/\

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo stepped out of the bar and headed for his car, sorry he'd had to cut his evening short. His old roommate and frat brother Brett was in town and he'd met up with him for a beer. Unfortunately, it was a weeknight and Tony knew better than to show up at work with a hangover. Besides, he'd worked far too many traffic accidents as a cop to risk driving drunk.

As he reached into his pocket for his keys, what Tony dubbed his 'copdar' alerted him that he was being watched. He'd felt it faintly earlier, on his way to the bar, but now his instincts were screaming danger.

Tony's head went up like a startled deer, every sense on the alert. His hand went instinctively to his shoulder holster and he drew his gun; but there was nothing to aim at.

His keen eyes scanned the shadows for something to shoot while he strained his ears for the faintest sound.

He picked up a faint click and a glint of shining metal in the darkness and then there was a sharp pain in his chest, a sensation of falling and… nothing.

He was completely unaware of the black clad figure that removed the tranquilliser dart from just over his heart before snagging his weapon and keys and stuffing him into the passenger seat of his own vehicle.

The car roared into life and the stranger drove away, Tony out cold beside him.

/\/\/\

When Tony came around, he was alone in a tiny concrete room, tied to a chair with a fluorescent light shining in his eyes. His chest still hurt where the dart had hit and he had a headache, but he didn't think that he was seriously injured. The only other furniture was a table with a few everyday items scattered across it; a biro, a pencil, some duct tape and a notebook.

"Well, this is another fine mess you've got yourself into, Anthony," he said to himself, testing his bonds. That explained the duct tape; his hands and feet had been taped together and then to the spine of the office chair.

"Damn, Gibbs is gonna be so pissed," he muttered. "If I end up in the ER again this year I'll get more than a smack on the head."

Tony wriggled in the chair, curving his spine so he was slouching further and further down. He was grateful that he was pretty flexible (since dating that tantric yoga instructor) when he managed to get his belt between his teeth. With some difficulty and significant drool he undid the buckle and yanked out the small blade he kept concealed there. With a flick of his head, he tossed it away and then pushed himself back upright.

"Thing was worth every cent," he said, satisfied, getting a foot on the floor and starting to rock the chair. "Gotta love Rule 9."

The chair tumbled over with a crash. Tony didn't bother to wait and see if the noise had disturbed anyone; he squirmed around on the floor until a questing hand found the knife. After only a few seconds manipulation, he managed to get the blade to the tape and sawed away until he could pull free. Tony repeated the process with his ankles and then scrambled to his feet, rubbing at his wrists to restore circulation. He moved behind the door and listened intently for a moment before making a quick inventory. His gun, holster, badge, wallet and cell phone were gone. No surprises there. He swiftly checked out the cell and then began to examine the door itself.

"Oh, c'mon; how dumb are these people?" He asked, seeing that the door's hinges were on the inside. Improvising hammer and chisel with a broken chair leg and his knife, Tony quickly managed to snap the hinge pins so he could lift the whole door out of its frame.

Cautiously, he stepped out, knife at the ready, into a round of applause.

/\/\/\

Let me know what you thought…


	2. An Offer He Can't Refuse

Thanks again for your reviews, guys. Longer chapter this time, as requested…

/\/\/\

Chapter 2: An Offer You Can't Refuse

/\/\/\

Tony's eyes narrowed as he took in his surroundings. It was a small, windowless concrete room, with a large plasma screen showing what was obviously the inside of his cell and a few uncomfortable looking chairs. These were occupied by an older man and an attractive brunette, both dressed in dark formal suits.

"Congratulations, Special Agent DiNozzo," said the man approvingly. "That was one of the most efficient escapes we've ever had."

"Had a lot of practice," he replied cautiously. "But it's always nice to know my efforts are appreciated."

"Allow us to introduce ourselves," said the woman, smilingly. "I am Special Agent Boyd; this is Agent Fisher. We're with the CIA."

"Uh huh," said Tony, unimpressed. "And I am here because…"

"We'd like to offer you a unique opportunity," Said Fisher.

"What, and you couldn't find me in the phone book?"

"More like we couldn't let anyone else discover our interest in you," Boyd informed him. "We want you to go on a deep cover op for us."

"You people seriously want me to be a spy?" Tony laughed heartily. "Oh, boy, Abby's going to love this. You people are even dumber than I thought."

"On the contrary, Agent DiNozzo," Fisher said. "You're the ideal man for the job, as you just proved."

"C'mon; _McGee_ could've busted out of that room."

"But Agent McGee doesn't have experience of spending months at a time undercover. He doesn't speak three languages with fluency and he certainly can't inspire trust like you can."

"Yeah, but I can't type, so it's a fair trade off."

"Fortunately, that's one skill you won't require."

"So, suppose I say no," said Tony cautiously.

"Let's just say it's an offer you can't refuse," Fisher drawled.

Tony's smile turned almost feral. "Well, Agent Brando, let's assume for a minute that I'm very stupid."

"Our techs have produced a suicide note in your handwriting," Boyd informed him. "It details how you were physically and emotionally abused by your immediate superior, Special Agent Gibbs, and that you killed yourself because you couldn't take it any more."

"Please; no one's gonna buy that."

"We're very good at faking crime scenes, Agent DiNozzo; and we'll even have the right body," Fisher interjected meaningfully. "He'll at least lose his job, possibly face criminal charges. The rest of the team will scatter; your death will be a black mark on each of their records. None will ever be promoted again."

"And if I agree?"

"We'll fake your death as an RTA. Your friends will grieve, and then move on; you get to live, and work for us."

"Then I guess I don't have a lot of choice, do I," said Tony, resigned.

"I knew you'd see it our way, Tony," Agent Boyd smiled at him. "Oh; and if you should ever attempt to contact your friends or disobey our orders, you should know that the men we have watching them are very accomplished snipers."

/\/\/\

I hate priority rides, Tony thought bitterly to himself.

The CIA had wasted no time in putting him on a chopper to join a training camp way out in the middle of nowhere. He was crammed into an uncomfortable seat, still wearing the silk shirt, leather jacket and black jeans he'd worn out to the bar. He was freezing, his head and chest still hurt, and he was never going to see any of his friends again.

Idly, Tony wondered what their reactions would be. Gibbs would be even more pissy than usual, Abby would burst into tears, and McGee would be terrified of saying the wrong thing. Kate would probably decide it was his own fault and Ducky would tell the corpse he thought was Tony's some of his interminable stories.

It hurt to think of their grief; he was sure it wouldn't last long, but even so. Abby was the best friend he'd ever had and anyone who made her cry deserved to have Gibbs' displeasure explained to them. At great length. Possibly with exploded diagrams.

Unfortunately, in this case it was himself who had caused her pain.

Maybe the CIA would slip up. Maybe they would find something to know the crime scene was faked. And of course, there was Gibbs' famous gut to consider. Tony's faith in his boss was unshakable. If he had even the faintest suspicion that there was something hinky going on, he'd never stop until he had all the answers.

Still, this wasn't a terrorist or a murderer he was up against. It was the full might of the CIA and probably the rest of the alphabet soup as well. Tony had no doubt that they'd be keeping a very close eye on Gibbs. If he did find anything, they'd find a way to shut down the investigation; protecting their new asset.

Whatever this undercover op they needed him for was, it had to be damn important. Otherwise they wouldn'tve risked pissing Gibbs off like that. Or maybe they'd underestimated his boss; it wouldn't be the first time NCIS were dismissed because no one had ever heard of the acronym.

It was odd, really. His job and his workmates had been the focus of Tony's life for so long that now he felt almost like he was twelve years old again; sent off to military school to fend for himself. Then again, he reflected, that wasn't too far from the truth. His team was the only true family he'd ever had.

Tony's chest ached with loss as he thought about them. Abby's pigtails bobbing in time to the sound of screaming guitars; that quizzical expression McGee got when Tony referred to a movie he hadn't seen. The feel of Kate's elbow jabbing into his ribs and listening patiently to Ducky's long and rambling stories. But most of all, the warmth in Gibbs' eyes when he'd made him proud.

"We're starting the descent now, sir," one of the pilots called back.

Five minutes later, Tony was ducking out from under the rotor blades in a small forest clearing, where a man in camos waited for him.

/\/\/\

Your questions answered at last! What did you think?


	3. Sigma Four

Sorry this is so late, guys! I had a huge project that's worth like a fifth of my degree due in yesterday and I've been up to my eyes trying to get it finished. Hopefully the next few chaps will be quicker now it's out of the way.

/\/\/\

Chapter 3: Sigma Four

"You're late, recruit," the man barked. He was about average height, perhaps forty, with greying hair in a buzz cut. Everything about him said drill sergeant.

_I've seen this movie, _Tony thought, snapping to attention and giving the man a proper Marine salute. _And anyway, this guy can't be as bad as Gibbs._

"Sir, yes, sir! Sorry, sir, there was a headwind."

The other man walked carefully around him, taking in the ensemble as best he could in the chopper's lights. "You have any previous military experience, recruit?"

"You could say that, sir."

"Hmm. Well, you should be in shape, then." He picked up a large and heavy pack from the ground and pushed it into Tony's arms. "Put this on and follow me."

He vanished into the forest almost immediately. Tony shrugged into the heavy pack and took a moment to settle it comfortably on his back before he followed. He used his better than perfect vision and sharp ears to track the man before he caught him up.

By the time they arrived at their destination about an hour later, dawn was breaking and Tony estimated that he'd run about eight miles. His feet were killing him; Italian loafers were not the most appropriate footwear for the conditions. The pack felt like it was full of rocks, he was dripping with sweat and his shoulders, back and legs were all killing him. He was also certain that the trainer had not taken the most direct route. What he could see of the camp looked like a group of heavily camouflaged tents spaced between the trees in two rough rows.

"All right recruit; this will be your home for the next six weeks. You will obey any order given to you to the best of your ability. You will not speak without permission unless absolutely necessary. You will not disclose any information about your previous life and under no circumstances will you tell anyone who you are or what you are doing here. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir." _Paranoid much?_

"Good. You will be referred to as Sigma Four. I am Tao Two. Report to Sigma barracks; third tent from the end on the right; move fast and you will have time to prepare for kit inspection before chow. And make sure you change into your uniform. No civvies allowed on base."

Tony tried hard not to smile at the cliché. _I mean, Greek letters? What is this place, a fraternity? _He thought to himself. _And the whole designation thing; it's like something out of a James Cameron TV movie…_

The tent was spacious enough, and immaculately tidy. There were three men already in there, packing up their sleeping bags and cleaning and tidying their equipment as he entered.

"Hi," said Tony. "Let me guess; Sigma One, Two and Three, right?"

"I'm One," grunted a huge heap of buzz cut muscle that looked like a competitor from World's Strongest Man, folding a blanket with military precision. He nodded toward a big bald black guy, who was already finished and sitting in some kind of yoga position. "He's Two. That's Three." The final member was smaller and wirier than his teammates; Tony had an instant distrust of his narrow set eyes and ferrety features.

He smiled anyway, wide and friendly. "Hey, guys; I'm Sigma Four. Any of you tried the food yet?"

"We're not allowed to indulge in frivolous conversation," One replied flatly. "Set up your kit."

Tony shrugged and followed his suggestion, unpacking the bag he'd been carrying. He changed into the uniform and unrolled his sleeping bag. He'd tossed enough racks to know how they should look; and Sergeant Harris had had a real hatred of Tony at his military school; he'd had to have his equipment perfect every time to avoid punishment.

He was just doing a few limited stretches to ease his overworked muscles when he was almost bowled over by another figure walking straight into him. Tony managed to turn the momentum into a forward roll and leapt back to his feet, prepared to fight.

The clumsy visitor immediately began to stammer an apology worthy of McGee while Tony's keen eyes assessed him; just a kid, barely old enough to shave; and definitely a geek. He relaxed out of his defensive stance and held out a hand, palm outwards, to stop the babbling.

"You better watch your step next time, kid," he warned. "What did you want?"

"Um, yes, sir, I will, sir. Um, I'm Sigma Five?"

/\/\/\

It was only a few minutes later that he team were called out for inspection. One, Two and Three were clearly used to this; Tony was too, despite his sleepless night, since bodies rarely chose convenient times to be discovered.

Sigma Five, however, looked dead on his feet. Tony gave him a dig in the ribs with his elbow as Tao Two and another man approached. "Wake up, kid," he murmured out of the side of his mouth.

"Alright, Sigma Team! Since Four and Five are not military personnel, you are the weakest team on the base! Do not think that gives you an excuse to perform badly; it doesn't. You will be expected to at least equal the next worst team before you leave. Today's inspection will be your first test. Those who pass will proceed to the mess; those who don't will spend the time running laps around the base. Understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" The group chanted.

Unsurprisingly, the first three all passed easily. Tony silently thanked Sergeant Harris as his own kit was grudgingly passed.

"What d'you call this, Five?" Asked Tao Two. "This is without doubt the worst kit I have ever seen!"

"Um, I'm sorry, sir, but I only arrived a few minutes ago, and, uh…"

"And you are a worthless, pathetic excuse for a soldier, Sigma Five!" Tao yelled, getting right up in the cowering kid's face. "You do not deserve to be in that uniform, let alone on this team! And what the hell do you find so funny, Four?"

Tony was wearing his biggest grin.

"XYZ, sir," he said helpfully, and then dropped his voice to a stage whisper. "Your fly's unzipped." There was a long silence as Tao looked down and then an audible zip as he corrected the problem.

"Do you find me funny, Sigma Four?" He growled menacingly.

"Not at all, sir," Tony replied. "I just find it ironic that you're chewing out little Fiver here for not having his kit perfect on his first day when you, an experienced veteran, had equipment trouble yourself."

If Tony hadn't been used to the patented Gibbs Death Glare, he might have been intimidated by the man's intense gaze.

"I can see I'm going to have to keep a very close eye on you, Sigma Four," he growled softly, and then stepped back.

"Unit dismissed!" He yelled. "To the mess, on the double! One, two, one, two; move it!"

From his vantage point directly behind Tony, only Five saw the small knife blade emerge from his sleeve and vanish into a pocket.

/\/\/\

Hands up who spotted the blatant Dark Angel reference? Anyone? (No one picked up on the crossover character, then. Oh, well; it doesn't really matter.)


	4. Dreams and Observations

Many thanks for all your reviews, guys!

RL is savagely attacking me again; but I'm gonna do my best to keep on updating. Hopefully the chapters won't be too far apart.

More clues for you here, DABF…

/\/\/\

Chapter 4: Dreams and Observations

Sigma team were worked hard over the next few weeks. They had physical training every morning, skills workshops in the afternoons and lectures on strategy and procedure in the evenings. More out of habit than anything, Tony observed all he could of his teammates and drew conclusions on what he thought of their skills and backgrounds.

One was precisely what he had first appeared. Tony would put his money on army, with his excellent hand to hand fighting skills, expertise in demolition and that military blind obedience to authority.

Two was a little more interesting. He was a medic, calm and patient, who rarely said a word but always came up with something sensible. And he was absolutely determined to be all that he could be. To Tony, that said SEAL, because the man didn't have the bark of a Marine. _Still waters run deep_, he thought with half a smile; Two definitely had more to him than it appeared.

Three was again different. He was clever; cunning might be a better word; and an excellent sniper. Tony had to go with Special Forces and leave it at that; Three gave nothing away about himself.

Tony often felt those ferrety eyes upon him; clearly, Three was trying to figure Tony out too. He definitely didn't fit into this group; Tony's main skills lay in observation and extracting information, as well as a strong talent for fitting in anywhere he went.

Sigma Five proved to be physically weak but very intelligent; and as Tony had guessed, he was a computer geek on a par with McGee. He'd almost immediately dubbed the boy Fiver, after the Watership Down character; his nose twitched when he was nervous, which was almost all the time. Only when he had a computer in front of him did Five become confident and certain.

Tony liked him; not really because Five had any particular charm, but he reminded him of McGee and therefore of home. He tried to give the kid what help he could; mostly by deflecting Tao's yelling onto himself. One and Three treated Five with barely disguised contempt and Two barely took notice of any of them.

Every morning after breakfast, the team were forced to run an assault course. Fiver's lack of height and strength gave him a distinct disadvantage; he was by far the slowest. Fortunately for Tony, excessive muscle was a problem for One and Two; the strain of lifting their vast bulk and squeezing through narrow gaps slowed them considerably. Only the wiry Three outperformed him; Tony let him. What was the point in killing himself in the morning when they had classes scheduled in until dark?

Even so, towards the end when he was tiring, the only thing that kept Tony going was picturing Gibbs in front of him, that rare half smile on his face.

In the afternoons, Sigma team were assigned to weapons and equipment training; target practice, bomb making and defusing, computer hacking, hand to hand combat, surveillance techniques. Tony performed best in the latter; he was well versed in undercover work. His firing range scores were second only to Three's with a rifle and better with a handgun.

Their evening classes were about as much fun as an NCIS sexual harassment lecture. Tony absorbed all that was said almost unconsciously while he practiced sleeping with his eyes open.

It was only when he lay down in his sleeping bag at night that Tony could allow himself to think about his past life. Among the sounds of One's faint snores, he could remember his friends, imagine that they were with him; that he'd never been forced into this harsh, repetitive existence. It always soothed him to think of them; he could drift from daydreams to true sleep with a smile on his face.

Sometimes he imagined running, escaping back home to show up on the doorstep of NCIS. He tried to picture their reactions…

The doors of the elevator opened and Tony stepped out, still clothed in his camo uniform. A smile crossed his face as the familiar scents of coffee and cleaning fluid filled his nose; the aroma was, to Tony, the most beautiful perfume in the world. The smell of home.

As always, the bullpen was alive with activity; but no one seemed to notice his presence. He grinned. _Oh, I can't wait to see their faces. _

As stealthily as he could, Tony snuck up to the desks used by Gibbs' team, peering over the cubicle divider to see inside.

Kate was sitting at her desk, leaning her head on her hand and staring at his empty one. _Boy, is she in for a big surprise._ McGee was also there, typing rapidly as usual. They both looked tired. _Maybe they've just come off a long case_.

"I can't believe Tony's dad didn't even come to the funeral," said Kate. "I mean, I knew they didn't exactly get along, but that's pretty bad."

A very old pain stabbed though Tony. _Yeah, sounds about right,_ he thought bitterly. _Probably clashed with one of his shareholder meetings. _

"Abby told me they haven't talked since his mom died," McGee replied soberly. "Apparently he thought it was Tony's fault."

_Aww, Abbs! I'm hardly cold in my fictional grave and you're spilling everything I ever swore you to secrecy over? Damn, this is gonna be embarrassing. Better jump out before things get any worse. _

Tony rounded the partition. "Been hacking into my personnel files, Probie?" He asked, eyebrow raised, a la Gibbs.

Neither of his friends appeared to notice him.

"He was twelve!" Kate protested. "How could it be his fault? I mean, he was pretty annoying; but that could hardly have driven her to suicide."

"Uh, hello! I am here! Back from the dead? Is anyone gonna notice me anytime soon?" Tony waved a hand in front of McGee's face; he didn't even blink.

"Who's commiting suicide?" Asked Gibbs, breezing in with a tray of coffees; he handed one to each of his remaining team members.

"Boss!" Tony's first reaction was relief; whatever the hell was going on here, Gibbs could sort it out. Gibbs wouldn't let him down.

"Thanks, Gibbs," said Kate, taking a sip. "We were just talking about Tony."

The older man grinned. "DiNozzo's dead and he's still stopping you working. You done translating those crappy handwritten notes he left behind, Tim?"

"Yes, boss; all ready for the new agent to arrive tomorrow."

"New agent? What are you talking about? I'm right here!" Tony was starting to panic. In desperation, he got right up in Gibbs' face and knocked the coffee out of his hands.

Or tried to. To his horror, Tony's hand passed right through the cup and Gibbs.

"What the hell is this? Am I a ghost or what? I'm not dead!"

Just then, Ducky and Abby hurried in.

"Duck! Abbs! You can see me, right?" Said Tony, in desperation, moving to intercept them.

The pair didn't even slow. Abby walked clean through Tony to reach Gibbs.

Tony bolted upright in his sleeping bag, gasping for breath, heart hammering in his chest. The tent was pitch black around him; One grunted and shifted in his sleep.

Carefully, Tony lay back down. He'd never felt less like sleeping in his life.

/\/\/\

I know the dream sequence was a cliché, but I liked the symmetry with LY. Review?


	5. Semper Fi

Thanks again for your reviews, guys.

This story is a bit more action than character study; at least to start with, so you shouldn't expect it to be quite like LY. Besides, I've always found Gibbs easier to write than Tony.

/\/\/\

Chapter 5: Semper Fi

Tony crouched uncomfortably in his perch, about halfway up a pine tree, listening out for pursuit. The team were on a night exercise; they had to escape and evade a unit of trackers armed with Tazers and make it back to base without detection. They'd been split up to disparate release points and given a thirty minute head start; Tony estimated he'd been on the run about an hour. He'd been moving from tree to tree for the past ten minutes or so, so as not to leave a visible trail to his pursuers. Not that much could be seen; the night was clear, but the moon was only half full and frequently obscured by the trees.

An owl hooted softly; Tony was forcibly reminded of hiding out in his tree in the back yard of his parent's house in Long Island. It had been his place; the only place beyond the reach of his family. Not even Nick would bother him there; he was always too worried about ripping his designer clothes. He'd sneaked out there after dark sometimes, to watch the stars on warm summer nights.

They'd moved as soon as his mother's funeral was over, but Tony still vividly remembered all the peaceful hours he'd spent pursuing imaginary criminals through the branches. He'd never been afraid of heights; even after he'd lost his grip a few times.

Tony snapped out of his reverie at the sound of heavy breathing approaching his tree. He strained his eyes in the darkness, picking up movement on the forest floor.

The figure was slight and he clearly had no idea how to move quietly through woodland; that was enough to identify Fiver. Tony was about to call out to him when a slight glimmer of light caught his eye. A reflection from something shiny, close by. Tony grinned to himself as he tensed his muscles, watching carefully as the man in hiding made his move.

"Halt! You're caught, idiot," he barked, in his best Gibbs impersonation.

Fiver jumped; clearly, he had no idea he was being followed.

"You want to take him back, buddy, or you gonna keep hunting?" Tony asked casually.

One of the heavily camouflaged hunting party emerged from a shadowy bush into full moonlight. "Damn, how'd you spot me?" He asked, annoyed.

Tony dropped out of the tree onto his head with bruising force. "Your tazer's too shiny," he informed the groaning heap he was sitting on.

"Four?" Said Fiver in astonishment. "What were you doing up there?"

"Hiding, Fiver; something you suck at, by the way. Gimmie a hand here?" He was already starting to strip his semiconscious prisoner.

"Uh, Ok; but why…"

"It's called a disguise, Probie," he said distractedly.

"Probie?" Asked Fiver indignantly.

Tony stilled for a second. "Sorry, Five," he said softly. "For a minute there I thought you were someone else."

/\/\/\

Some time later, a uniformed tracker led a tied up prisoner back to the front gate, dressed in one of the high visibility jackets which identified the caught.

"Hey!" He called out. "How many we got so far?"

"Only one; plus yours. Can't believe that scrawny kid made it so long."

"Yeah; tell me about it. He made enough noise for a whole unit. Made me ashamed to call myself a Sigma."

"Sigma? What the hell are you talking about?"

Tony stripped off his helmet and saluted. "Sigma Four, and my associate Sigma Five, reporting back, sir! Mission successful."

/\/\/\

Tao Two was glaring at the pair as they stood to attention beside their tent the next morning. One had been caught first; Two hadn't made it back in the allotted time and Three had been tazered within a hundred feet of the base. Only Tony and Fiver had successfully completed the mission.

"Explain to us all how you managed to get back without detection, Sigma Four," Tao said, dangerously quietly.

"I dropped out of a tree onto a tracker who'd been sneaking up on Fiver, sir. Then I switched uniforms with him and Five put on the hi vis jacket so we could just walk back to base."

"I see. And whose idea was that?"

"Mine, sir."

"The rules clearly stated that no injuries could be inflicted on the trackers."

"You said no _serious_ injuries, sir. And he wasn't seriously injured; I'm not that heavy. Just bruised, pissed off and maybe mildly concussed. Nothing we did contravened the rules in any way."

"Did you plan this beforehand?"

"No, sir; I just took the opportunity when I saw it."

"And what did Sigma Five contribute that induced you to take him with you?"

"Needed an excuse to return to base; prisoner's the perfect one."

"So, not because you didn't think he stood a chance without your help?"

"My rule number one is never to leave a teammate in trouble, sir. Semper Fi, and all that."

Tao's eyes sharpened in surprise. _Guessed right_, thought Tony. _Man's definitely a Marine. _

/\/\/\

So, any thoughts?


	6. Coffee and Sawdust

New chapter at last! Sorry it's taken so long, guys, RL's been hinda hectic lately between the four uni projects and the relatives coming to visit and the sick family members and my internet cutting out every five minutes. Hope you like it…

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Chapter 6: Coffee and Sawdust

Tony poured himself some coffee and accepted the tray of gloop that represented his breakfast. Gruel was too kind a word.

_Boy, it's a wonder Gibbs is still as strong as he is after all those years of eating this crap_, he thought as he took his seat beside Two. Then his nostrils twitched. He could smell a very familiar scent. Sawdust, mixed with coffee. Combined, they almost smelled like Gibbs.

At once, Tony was back in the darkened bullpen, feet on his desk as he shared a pizza comfortably with his boss as they talked over whatever case they were working on. He'd managed to raise a smile on the ex gunny's face for once as they just talked, like they were really friends. Neither felt the need to mask themselves from the other; Tony felt like he was home, and there was nowhere he'd rather be.

Tony wondered idly if Gibbs was still looking. He wouldn't put it past him; the older man had instincts that bordered on the supernatural. And Abby was probably the best forensics tech in DC; no matter how good the CIA were, there was always a chance she would find something hinky.

A half smile crossed Tony's face as he pictured his team, hunting him because they cared.

_Well, Abby probably cares at least_, he corrected himself. _And McGee will look to please her. I owe Kate thirty bucks, so she'll want to get her money back. _

_As for Gibbs… Well, he's come after me every other time, right? Even when it was my own fault I was in trouble in the first place. He must care enough to not want me dead. Besides, he needs a punchbag; a buffer against the world of non-Marines. And he hates it when anyone tries to take away anything that's his; just because it belongs to him._

He still remembered the moment he'd become part of Gibbs' team vividly…

/\/\/\

Tony kicked the door closed behind him, barely hesitating as he saw that the lights were on. He dumped his keys and backpack and balanced pizza box and six pack on the hall table long enough to shuck his jacket and shoes.

"Bout time you showed up, DiNozzo," said Gibbs, as he entered the living room to flop onto the couch where the older man awaited him, looking perfectly at home.

"Always a pleasure, Special Agent Gibbs," said Tony, cracking open a beer and handing it over to his guest. "If I'd known you were waiting I'dve left it till the morning before I filed my report." He flipped the lid of the box. "Pizza?"

Gibbs accepted a slice, a little surprised by Tony's easy acceptance of his presence.

"You wanna pick out a movie?" The cop continued, after he'd poured half a slice down his throat in a single mouthful. "I was thinking something with Gregory Peck, but it's up to you."

"I'm not here to discuss my taste in movies, Detective."

"Kinda figured that," Tony agreed easily. "But do me a favour and let me eat first? Been running on vending machine candy for three days."

"I noticed," Gibbs replied with distaste. Tony shrugged around a mouthful of pizza. They ate companionably for the next few minutes and then sat in silence, finishing their beers.

"This is a crappy apartment for someone with a multimillion dollar inheritance," said Gibbs eventually.

"You've been checking up on me," said Tony. "But not thoroughly enough. I'll be lucky to get ten cents after all the ex wives and the lawyers've had their cuts. My father's spent more time in the divorce courts than you have."

Gibbs' eyebrow twitched, acknowledging the fact Tony had checked him out too.

"You don't sound real broken up about it."

"Money's not everything. Oh, thanks for tossing the place neatly, by the way; I hate cleaning."

"How'd you know?"

"Didn't," Tony shrugged. "But it's what I'dve done."

"You ever going to ask why I'm here, DiNozzo?"

"You wanna tell me, and you're not exactly the patientest guy I've ever met, Gibbs."

"You stopped me killing that asshole Burton."

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Never been big on the idea of revenge."

"You pissed me off on purpose all along, didn't you." It was a statement.

"It helped us catch the killer, didn't it?"

"Not many people have tried that and lived."

"Not many have tried it, then. You're a bastard, not a murderer."

"Not many can tell the difference."

"I've had practice," said Tony, dryly.

"Three PDs in eight years?"

"Two moves; two sets of extenuating circumstances, as I'm sure you know, Agent Gibbs."

"You think you'll stay in Baltimore much longer?"

"Not if Captain Healy gets his way; and he usually does. Chief's his brother in law. Maybe I'll try for another B city. Boston, maybe."

"No; you won't," said Gibbs, with certainty.

Tony's brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

Gibbs smacked him firmly on the back of the head. "Navy yard, Washington DC. 0700, Monday. Don't be late. And if you ever put yourself between my gun and a suspect again don't expect me to hold my fire."

"You're recruiting me? Why?"

"You're a good cop, DiNozzo."

"I'm also a pain in the ass, in case you hadn't noticed. All my bosses want me gone after three weeks or so."

"I don't play favourites, DiNozzo. You screw up, you're fired. Do a good job and you stay."

"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," he said experimentally. "Huh. That kinda has a ring to it."

"Better than 'Spanky?'"

"You shouldn'tve answered my cell phone."

"I wouldn't, if you'd been conscious."

"That was not my fault. I just came off a three week undercover op six hours before I got the call to come piss you off."

"As what? A male escort?"

"Crack dealer. Undercover, Drug Task Force can't break any ring that doesn't have powdered sugar on it; they're always borrowing me for something. Few months back I actually had an op for _Transit _detail, investigating gypsy cabs." He pronounced 'Transit' to rhyme with 'Kindergarten'.

"They delegate me to lots of negotiation jobs, too; suicides, hostage situations, getting ropey search warrants, the works. I'm lucky to get one actual homicide a month sometimes."

"Won't be a problem on my team. I don't lend out my agents to anyone. And you'll get a hell of a lot more than one murder a month. You up to it, DiNozzo?"

A slow smile crossed Tony's face. "Sir, yes, sir," he said, with a sloppy salute.

Gibbs smacked him firmly on the head. "Don't sir me, DiNozzo," he growled. "I work for a living. It's Gibbs or Boss, got it?"

"Yes, Boss. Starting to think maybe this wasn't such a good idea," he added, half under his breath.

"Tough. You're mine now." Gibbs rose and left quietly, with only a yell of "0700, DiNozzo," over his shoulder.

Tony sat alone in the apartment, beer in hand.

"What the hell just happened?" He asked aloud.

/\/\/\

I couldn't resist the Spanky line. Tell me if you liked.


	7. Fight Club

Sorry! Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry! 

My updating has been awful lately; I've had loads of RL work to do and I've managed to get myself addicted to a really crappy computer game and then my muse abandoned me. I've decided to try and move the story on in the hope of inspiration; at least it's a nice long chapter. Hope you like it…

BTW… Thank you, Steve, for pointing out that 'spanky' should have been spelled 'spankie'. I thought it was the other way, but it's probably a UK/US pota(y)to pota(h)to thing. And I must admit, reading your review made me ROFLOL. (Yes, I'm weird, I know.) 

/\/\/\

Chapter 7: Fight Club

_Another day, another session of watching Tao beating on Fiver,_ thought Tony, as he leaned on the edge of the rough boxing ring (a circle of pine posts with two levels of horizontal planks nailed to them; like a corral from a really cheap Western) with the other Sigmas and winced as the younger man got thrown; again. As the weakest hand-to-hand fighter, the instructor had been trying to teach him through experience. The five Sigmas and Tao fought one on one, one pair at a time, and each had to fight every opponent once. 

It happened every third day; they'd begun to blur together for Tony. Most of the time, there was nothing but endless monotonous training that reminded him of all the worst parts of attending military school. Alone, in a group of strangers, with his whole life scheduled and organised for him and so routine it made him want to scream. Tony hated routine. That was part of the reason he'd gone into law enforcement in the first place; the prospect of being continually presented with fresh problems and never being able to predict the outcome. Of course, the other reasons were years of watching Magnum P.I. reruns and really, really pissing off his father. 

Tony sometimes beat One (by using his size and weight against him) and always Five (while whispering advice to the kid on how to fight back), often Two as well and Three about half the time. He'd never beaten Tao; but then, none of the others had either so he didn't feel bad about it. 

Fiver rolled out from under Tao and scrambled back to his feet. _Go on, kid,_ Tony urged silently. _Show him the Gibbs Trip._ As if he'd read Tony's mind, when Tao came in to attack again, Fiver feinted left, grabbed his arm, got a leg behind Tao's and shoved him to the ground. 

"All right, Fiver!" Tony called out, a wide grin spreading across his face. 

"Halt!" Yelled Tao, getting up with far more grace than his opponent. "Who taught you that move, Sigma Five?"

"Um, Four used it on me last time, sir," he managed, looking terrified that he was about to get beat up for tripping his superior. 

"Oh, did he now?" Tao drawled. "And I don't suppose he gave you any helpful tips on how to use it?"

"Um… no, sir," Fiver lied desperately. 

"Yeah; that's what I thought. Dismissed, Five; Four, you're up." 

Cautiously, Tony climbed into the rough ring, keeping his stance defensive. 

"Now; the rest of you observe closely. Four is taller and younger than I am but he will not win this fight because I am better trained. There is no reason why even Five couldn't beat him. Now, Four; attack me." 

Tony rose onto the balls of his feet and began to circle his opponent, just out of arm's reach. He watched Tao's eyes carefully, waiting for an opening. 

Without warning, Tony danced forwards and darted a couple of fast punches at him; they were easily blocked. 

"I told you to attack, Four, not prance about like an idiot," said Tao.

Tony took advantage of the distraction of Three's snigger to use one of the many moves Gibbs had taught him and ducked under the older man's guard to head butt him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. As Tao instinctively doubled over, Tony used his elbow to strike the back of his neck and force the man to his knees. He followed it up with a kick to the shoulder for good measure, so that the instructor hit the dirt on his back. Shame he didn't count on the older man grabbing his ankle and pulling him down too. 

Before he knew it, Tony was rolled over and pinned tightly to the ground on his back, Tao straddling him. 

"That was a Marine move," Tao whispered. 

"Should be; I learned it from one." 

"But you were never one of us…"

"Course not. Corps only takes the best; and I'd look terrible in a buzz cut." 

Tao's mouth twitched, as if he were fighting a smile, and then rose to his feet. He offered Tony a hand up; the younger man clasped it firmly and then rolled backwards, placing a foot in the Marine's stomach and flipping him clean over his own body to hit the ground on his back. In an instant, Tony twisted on the dirt and rolled them both, using his grip on Tao's arm to turn the man over onto his face and gripping his wrists tightly as he sat on his back. Instinctively, he freed one hand and reached for where he habitually kept his cuffs. 

Crap. Gotta remember you're not in Kansas any more, Anthony. 

"What the hell d'you think you're doing, Four?" The instructor managed, muffled by the mud. 

"Rule number eleven, sir; fight's not over while your opponent's still conscious," Tony answered distractedly, cursing himself for showing such an obvious 'cop' gesture as he reached to regain his grip. 

Tao replied by bucking upwards and slamming his head back into Tony's throat. Immediately, the younger man released him, grabbing at his neck as he choked, struggling to breathe. Casually, Tao stood, rubbing his bruised wrist. 

"I meant, why'd you fail to properly restrain me?"

Tony was still unable to speak; but Three piped up from the sidelines. 

"He was going for something on his belt, sir; like he expected to have a weapon there." 

"Not a weapon," said Fiver, unexpectedly, in growing realisation. Every eye fixed on him; most curious and surprised, Tony's warning, pained and slightly proud, too. 

"Really, Sigma Five," said Tao menacingly. "And what do you think Four was trying to pull?"

Five stiffened, almost to attention, clearly terrified. "Um, I can't tell you that, sir." 

"And why would that be?"

"Your orders, sir. It relates to speculation on Four's previous life; and we're forbidden to discuss it." 

"And if I were to order you to tell me, Five?" Fiver gulped noticeably. 

"Then I'd have to refuse and suffer whatever punishment you gave me, sir." 

Tao climbed out of the ring and approached him, face unreadable; the tension was palpable.

He simply stared at Five's frightened but determined expression… and then smiled. "Good job, Sigma Five. You'll need to be able to keep your mouth shut after tonight." 

Fiver visibly puffed up with pride at the first positive acknowledgement he'd had from Tao. "Tonight, sir?" He asked. 

"Yeah. Tonight, you're going to be read in on your mission by some visitors from the CIA."

/\/\/\ 

The atmosphere in the briefing tent was tenser than Tony had ever known it before. He touched his bruised throat gently for the umpteenth time as they waited, in absolute silence. Two, as a trained field medic, had taken a quick look at it and decided the bruising was superficial and he'd be fine in a few days when the swelling went down. Tony hoped he was right; talking hurt like hell and he sounded like he'd smoked forty a day since he was fourteen. It would play havoc with his impressions, if he were home; but Abby would love it. She'd see it as an opportunity to teach him to sign properly, instead of the few swearwords and finger spelling that he'd learnt while waiting for test results or hiding out from one of Gibbs' moods. He smiled slightly at the memory. 

And then the tent flap opened and two familiar faces walked in the forms of CIA Agents Fisher and Boyd.

"Good evening, gentlemen," said Fisher, looking them over. "Tao Two informs me that your training is going well; so you will all be undertaking the mission we have in mind for you. Although I hope that bruise heals up quickly, Sigma Four." 

"It will," Tony rasped, glaring at him. "Sniper fire doesn't." 

Fisher and Boyd seemed a little uncomfortable at the reminder of their threat to his friends; the other Sigmas merely looked confused at the exchange. Boyd moved swiftly onto the opening of the briefing, placing a laptop on the table and busying herself pulling up information as Fisher dismissed Tao, with orders to keep the camp well guarded without anyone within earshot of the tent. 

"All right, gentlemen," he began, at last. "You were brought here for a very specific purpose. Your mission is a highly important one, vital to national security, and whatever the cost, it must not fail." 

"Operational secrecy has to be absolute," Boyd added. "If any of you speak or otherwise communicate any information to anyone, even each other in a non-secure environment, the mission must be aborted." 

_The first rule of Fight Club; you do not talk about Fight Club,_ Tony thought, rolling his eyes. _This had better be good. _

Fisher continued, efficient as an Olympic baton change. "You have all been carefully selected as leaders in your field; Sigma Four, as undercover specialist, will be in the most frequent danger; Three is sniper and will cover him when necessary. Two will manage supplies on the ground and evac, One is bomb disposal and Five is intell."

Fisher took a deep breath and then broke the news. 

"We have information from a Mossad officer inside Al Quaeda that a nuclear weapon is going to be smuggled into the US through the Caribbean. And your task is to stop them." 

_Well, that sure is big,_ thought Tony. _And I'd bet a lifetime's supply of pizza our good friend Ari Haswari specifically recommended me for the job. _

/\/\/\

They don't call ECWS Lovely Fluffy Happy Chapter Ending Syndrome for a _reason_. 

Let me know what you thought.


	8. Not Just A Number

Disclaimer: I don't own it

Many thanks for all your reviews, guys. I've managed to update a bit faster this time…

For some reason FFnet's eaten all my scene separators. And since I've got 19 stories and more than 170,000 words archived I'm too lazy to go back and replace the content of every single chapter; sorry about that. I'll try using a different one.

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Chapter 8: Not Just A Number

There was a long silence as the team absorbed the information.

"The target is so far unknown; but with any luck the five of you can stop the operation proceeding that far," said Fisher. "They're going small, trying to get past customs using a local smuggler who knows the area and the best places to slip through."

Boyd pulled up a photo on her laptop. "This is the man doing the smuggling; Carmine Fuentes." Tony took in the handsome, well tanned features, obviously captured covertly as he turned to smile at someone out of frame. "Cuban father, Italian mother; and he prefers to think of himself as his mother's son. He's the weak link in the chain of couriers; he's doing it because he's being well paid. It's unlikely he even knows what it is he's transporting. Usually he deals in smuggling drugs, Cuban cigars, gemstones, the occasional wealthy or desperate human cargo."

"It's not like Al Quaeda to use outsiders," said Tony thoughtfully. Everyone turned to look at him; his teammate's eyes widening in surprise. "They're like the Mob; if you're not one of them, they won't deal with you. And I can't exactly pass for Middle Eastern."

"Correct, Sigma Four. That is precisely why they're using Fuentes. He has no terrorist connections; nothing to arouse suspicion, and he's about the best smuggler in the business. They're hoping he's off our radar. But he does have a weakness for speaking in his mother tongue; which is where you come in."

"_I speak Italian, therefore I chase nuclear weapons,"_ said Tony, in that language. "Great."

Fisher shot him an annoyed look before he continued. "Listen carefully; here's the plan…"

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Two's prediction was right. By the time Sigma team were airlifted out of the camp ten days later, the bruise on Tony's neck was almost invisible.

The five were airlifted out together and then split into two groups when they touched down on an small airforce base. One, Two and Three were going ahead to set up their command post while Tony and Fiver transferred to commercial transportation to work on his cover. First, they were issued with civvies and chauffeur driven out to a hotel suite to prepare.

"Well, the Hilton, it ain't," said Tony as the porter left with a healthy tip, surveying the room. "Still, not bad for our hosts."

"You're complaining about the hotel room? After the tent, this is luxury."

Tony shot him a look. "How about some music?" He said, finding the entertainment centre and putting on MTV.

"Careful what you say, Fiver," he said softly. "Room's probably bugged."

"Bugged? By who, the CIA?"

"Wouldn't put it past them. A agencies are the worst. You go take a long hot shower; it'll cover the noise while I sweep the place."

Thirty minutes later, Five joined Tony in the living area of the suite and found him crushing a couple of tiny electronic mikes. "Are we OK?" He whispered.

"Think so; or as sure as I can be without a sweeper. Keep your voice down anyway."

"You've done this before, haven't you?"

"Of course; you heard Fisher; I'm your undercover expert. And I know you've figured out what I used to do before I joined this crazy mission."

"You were a cop?"

"It was going for my handcuffs that gave me away, wasn't it."

"Not just that. The way you stood, when you were shooting; you looked like a cop."

"You been in trouble with the law, Fiver?"

"No; an ex cop taught me to shoot. He stood like that, too." He hesitated. "Um, Four, there's something I have to tell you…"

"Spit it out, Fiver," said Tony. "I know you've been dying to say something for weeks."

"Thank you," he said in a rush.

"For what? I haven't done anything," replied Tony mildly.

"I saw the knife you used to take down Tao's fly my first morning. You gave me tips on how to improve my aim and showed me throws in hand to hand. You're the only reason I passed that exercise; I'dve been the first caught if you hadn't helped me. You even showed me how to do my kit properly."

"Well, Tao isn't going to buy a faulty zipper every day."

"But what I don't get is why? You don't owe me anything; why are you helping me, Four?"

"You… remind me of someone, from back home."

Comprehension dawned on Five's face. "Probie?"

Tony smiled sadly. "He always hated it when I called him that. Least now he won't have to put up with it any more."

"What d'you mean? Surely this mission won't take that long."

"You looking forward to going home, Fiver?" Tony asked wistfully.

"Of course. Aren't you?"

"Can't. Officially, I'm dead."

"Dead?" Asked Five incredulously. "They actually told all your friends and family you were dead just so you could come do this mission?"

"No; they crashed my car with someone else's corpse inside. Boom; no more questions asked. Waste of a classic, if you ask me. Man, I loved that car."

"They faked your death?"

"Uh huh."

"And you still agreed to do it?"

"No choice. They said if I didn't they'd kill me and pin the blame on a friend. I wasn't going to let him suffer for me being stubborn. So how'd they recruit you? Just show up outside the gates of MIT or wherever and say hey, wanna come work for us?"

"Uh, no, actually. I got caught hacking into the Pentagon for a dare. They told me I could work for them or serve three life sentences at Guantanamo Bay."

"Ahh, Gitmo's not all bad. I've been; weather's great. Have to watch out for the iguanas though; I woke up with one on my pillow once."

"What were you doing there?"

"I used to work for the Navy. Got to travel quite a lot to the various bases. Roosevelt Roads was my favourite; I love Purto Rico. Hey, Fiver? You know everything there is to know about computers, right?"

"I wouldn't say I know everything; but I'm pretty good, yeah. Why?"

"Hypothetically speaking, could you send an untraceable email? I mean really untraceable; like, so good not even a genius of computer forensics could figure it out?"

"I… guess so. If I reroute the signal and scramble the IP, it would be virtually impossible to track back. Why?"

"Could you make it so the CIA didn't know you'd sent it either?"

"Yeah, I could… You want to contact your family?"

"No. Just a passing thought."

"OK; but I owe you, Four. If you need anything, you only have to ask."

"Thanks, Fiver. I'll… think about it."

"Um, my name's David," said the kid, shyly, offering his hand. Tony smiled genuinely as he shook it.

"Tony." It felt good to acknowledge that he had a name, after six weeks of being just Four. "Hey, you know what this reminds me of?"

"Uh, no; why?"

"I am not a number; I am a free man," Tony quoted. Fiver… David… looked puzzled. "The Prisoner? 60's British TV series starring Patrick McGoohan? Weird big white balloon thing that chases people around for no adequately explored reason?"

"I think that's a little before my time, Tony."

"Before mine too; man, we have to introduce you to some classic television. Tell me you at least saw Magnum PI."

"Who?"

"Ok; that's it. Soon as I've showered, we are going shopping. This spook credit card better have enough funds to buy out half of HMV. And enough pizza to make up for all the crap we've had to eat for the past six weeks."

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Thoughts, anyone?


	9. Bond James Bond

Disclaimer: I don't own it

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X through triple X? Hung Out To Dry? Anyone? No? Oh, well.

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That's it, Trivette; I can't take it any more. It's gonna take a while before I put Tony's letter in a chapter… actually, it's probably going to turn into a trilogy. I'm posting it on my fanfiction thread on NCIS Special Ops. Just google it if you haven't been there before and look under Case Files.

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Chapter 9: Bond. James Bond.

Tony stood at the helm of the sleek, brilliantly white luxury yacht as he steered it skilfully into the large marina. The late afternoon sun was blazing down on him, glistening off the mixture of sweat and seaspray on his naked back. All he wore were a pair of swim shorts that showed off his long, muscular runner's legs, a watch and shades. He mentally thanked his Mediterranean ancestors for giving his skin the ability to tan naturally and quickly without burning.

He turned the boat towards the jetty and caught the eye of a group of girls walking along it; they immediately broke out into giggles and he raised his sunglasses to direct one of his 'I think you're hot' smiles at them. The giggling increased dramatically.

_One advantage of spending six weeks in a CIA training camp,_ he thought. _It's worked wonders on my six pack._

It was true. Tony's bronzed skin rippled with muscle at the slightest movement; as was proved by the open staring of the girls as they checked him out. He made sure to toss them a little mock salute, knowing it would show off his toned arms and broad shoulders.

Tony and David had spent three days at the hotel, working out Tony's cover story. He was supposed to be the proverbial bored rich kid, on vacation from his vice presidency of the family business. He'd catch Carmine's attention by letting him overhear him speaking Italian and then befriend him and see what he could get out of the other man.

Nothing could be allowed to detract from this image. Tony had been putting the CIA's four platinum credit cards through their paces; he'd bought himself a whole holiday wardrobe in Miami, every item designer. And then he'd hired this boat and set off for the Caribbean. Fiver had contacted him on his sat phone and informed him that Fuentes' yacht was currently berthed in the Dominican Republic; so Tony had followed.

The only items he'd purchased before Miami were his watch and a cell phone. David had equipped both with distress beacons he could activate at any time if he thought his cover was blown.

"Very Jamesh Bond," Tony had drawled in his best Sean Connery voice.

"Guess that makes me Q, huh?"

"Finally! You got one of my movie references!"

"Well, it is about the most famous movie franchise ever. And Pierce Brosnan's pretty good, I think."

"Brosnan? Connery was the best Bond by a mile."

"Brosnan gets better gadgets. Remember that remote control car linked to the cell phone?"

Tony looked scandalised. "It was a _BMW_," he said, disgusted. "Everyone knows James Bond has to drive an Aston Martin. I've always wanted a DB5, like Connery had in Goldfinger… Ooh, Honor Blackman was hot back then…"

"Who's Honor Blackman?"

Tony just stared at him. "Jeez, Fiver; what did you used to _do_ on Sunday afternoons?"

David's nose twitched rapidly. "Um, visited my grandmother?"

Tony shook his head at the memory. That kid really needed to watch more television. He'd done his best with a few boxed sets, but all he'd got were complaints about the bad special effects and simple storylines. David had been plainly astonished by the lack of cell phones or computers anywhere in the older series; something that made Tony feel very old, suddenly. With a sudden pang of understanding, he wondered if that was how Gibbs felt when he looked at McGee.

Tony did his best not to think about them as he found a space by the jetty and threw a mooring rope up onto the planked walkway.

"Need a hand, Senor?" Purred a voice, in strongly accented English. Tony looked up to see a stunning young woman in a tiny white halter neck bikini and very short sarong smiling seductively, black curls tumbling about her shoulders.

"I never say no to a beautiful woman," he told her, with a grin. She bent to tie the rope around a post and his grin broadened as he got an excellent view down her top.

_Just 'coz the CIA sent me here to chase terrorists is no reason not to have a little fun at their expense… _

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Two days later…

Carmine Fuentes was relaxing by a pool, eying up the local bikini'd beauties, when an agitated voice reached his ears; speaking his own favourite language.

"Gabriella! Not another tattoo! You know Dad's gonna go crazy when he finds out… No; and I don't want to know where it is, either."

He turned to see a man about his own age, casually but expensively dressed over by the nearby bar, gesticulating wildly as he talked into a slender, top of the line cell phone.

"Why'd you have to do this, Abbs? It only makes trouble."

"Well of course he always forgives you; that's coz you're his favourite… I am not a drama queen; that's Tim's job." He listened intently for a moment, then sighed.

"Oh, all right. What is it this time?"

"I knew I shouldn'tve got you that tarantula for your tenth birthday."

"Yeah; Charlotte wasn't a web building species, I know. Just tell me it's not anywhere visible, please?"

"On your neck! Abby are you insane? Whatever possessed you to put it there? Dad'll make you get it lasered off."

"I don't care about the mystic symbolism, Abbs; I care about my baby sister. Were you drunk?"

"Well, tell Dad you were; blame it on one of those vampire wannabes you hang out with."

"Yes, I know they're your friends; and I kinda like them too but you know how Bossman is. Remember the fiasco at your senior prom? I don't think I've ever seen a goth go that white before." He grinned. "Yeah; totally worth it. Have you told Kate?"

"Well, threaten to tell Dad about that tat on her butt unless she backs you up."

"I know because she dated one of my frat brothers, remember?"

"Hey, he was begging for that black eye. He's lucky I didn't tell Dad; especially after Kate kicked him right in the…" The man chuckled, his face lighting up with mirth. "Oh, hell, yeah!"

"What is it with our family and tattoos, anyway? I'm the only one who hasn't got one and I spend more time out of my skull than the rest of you put together."

"Tats are not genetic, Abbs."

"Yeah. OK; well, it's your funeral. And don't think I'm cutting my vacation short to come save your heavily tattooed skin."

"Yes, I promise I'll be home for your birthday."

"Yeah. You too, little sis. Ciao." The man flipped the phone shut and ordered himself another drink, shaking his head.

Carmine rose and made his way over to do the same. It wasn't often he got to speak his beloved mother tongue, after all; and this guy had already piqued his interest.

"Hey," he said. "You Italian too?"

"Half Italian," Tony replied, in that language. "Guess you heard me ranting at my sister, huh?"

"Hard to miss; but there's no one else in miles who could've understood," he said, with a smile. "I know; I've looked."

"Ah, well; I'll just have to make sure you never meet my dad, then. Tony Scutio," he introduced himself, with a wry smile. The other man gripped the proffered hand firmly.

"Carmine Fuentes."

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Hope you appreciated the semi naked Tony imagery; and the pretend conversation with Abby.


	10. True Lies

Disclaimer: I don't own it

A/N: I'M BAAAAAAACK!!

Many, many apologies, guys. Exams, sick dad and a plethora of visiting relatives have thoroughly invaded my writing time. I've tried to extend this chapter a bit to make up for it; and the action starts next time. Hopefully it'll be up within a week.

Incidentally, Losing You is now up to 300 reviews, making it my most reviewed story ever! You guys rock!

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Chapter 10: True Lies

David watched the surveillance feed he'd hacked into admiringly, almost hypnotized by what he saw.

Whoever Tony might be, he was breathtaking undercover. He talked and laughed and eyed up women with Fuentes as if they were frat brothers, perfectly relaxed and comfortable in his own skin, as David himself had never been. He found himself wondering how anyone got to be that good an actor without a script to follow.

Even when they'd been plotting his background story, Tony had always known with certainty what he wanted it to say.

"OK; name first. You want to stick with Tony or change to something else?"

"Can't get a more Italian name than Tony. Only make it Anthony on the official stuff. Anthony… Scutio. Yeah, that's a good one."

"Scutio? That's not Italian, is it?"

"No; but I don't exactly look like a pure blooded Tuscan farm boy so that's a good thing. You spelled it wrong, by the way. S C U T I O."

"Does it matter?"

"Rule one of undercover work, Fiver; if you're gonna use a false name, make sure it's one you'll remember; and one you can spell. Now; job; vice president of family business… let's say… shipping. Big company; lots of disposable income for the heir to waste on Caribbean trips."

"Um… OK. I can set up a fake website easy enough. Now; family… we can say you're an only child, of course, keep things simple…"

"No; too obvious. You can bet someone's gonna check me out at some point; the more roots I seem to have, the better. Orphans with no siblings are a dead giveaway for undercover agents. So… I'm the eldest of four. Two sisters and a brother. Caitlyn, Timothy and Abby… Gabriella, in that order."

"Are you sure? That's a lot to remember…" David trailed off, regarding the older man with his trademark nose twitch. "Unless… I mean, none of this is true, right?"

"Rule number seven, David. Always be specific when you lie."

"Where did you get all these rules?"

"Ah; now that would be telling. Now; mother can be dead; that'll give me another thing in common with Fuentes. Let's say… car accident, when I was a teen. She was Italian; but us kids were born and raised on the East Coast; find a nice address in the Hamptons, to match my accent."

David's jaw dropped. "You grew up in the Hamptons?"

"Second rule of undercover work, Fiver; don't lie. Tell as much of the truth as possible unless it directly contravenes your cover story. Facts are a lot easier to get straight than stuff you make up on the spot."

"So, you do have brothers and sisters?"

"Nope. I'm unlucky: an undercover specialist who really has no family has a harder job improvising. They're just people I knew in a previous life."

Questions circled endlessly through David's brain. Was Tony truly lying when he'd established his cover story? Had he told the truth about his faked death? Out of all the small pieces of information he'd dropped, how many were genuine? The man's acting was so good David wasn't even convinced he'd met the real Tony. Was that even his real name, or only another part of his persona?

And yet he couldn't help liking him, wanting to follow his instructions. After all the help Tony had given him in training, David owed him the benefit of the doubt. But to the computer hacker, the puzzle was maddening.  
Tony always seemed… in control. As if he was watching what he was doing every minute of every day, even when it was watching old movies or trying to pick up girls. Like he always knew what to do next.

Still, the slips were there sometimes; and the oddest things could set him off, staring into space, looking suddenly older, and tired, and sorrowful. The smell of coffee. The smooth wooden hull of a yacht, upturned for repair when he went to hire his own. A brightly coloured soda machine selling something so obscenely caffeinated it probably carried a health warning. The man was an incomprehensible mystery.

David glanced at his computer, fingers twitching.

I really shouldn't, he told himself, firmly. It could compromise the mission, right?

Well, how, exactly? Surely knowing more about our spy could only be an advantage. What harm could it really do, anyway? And I do have a few useful details, and plenty of Googling time.

Tony had implied he came from a wealthy East Coast family; surely there'd be an obituary at least if his death really had been faked.

And then there was the envelope.

Tony had given it to him with an unusually serious expression on his face.

"What's this?" David had asked, taking it without complaint.

"Insurance," Tony replied. "If anything goes wrong… If you lose contact with me, or my cover gets blown, there's an email address and a message inside. Make it traceable; and tell the people who show up everything. They'll probably point guns at you, so just tell them 'Gitmo, naked, Sig, iguana, chair' if they don't believe you're on my side. Oh, and make sure you have lots of coffee."

"Is that another one of your movie references?" Asked Fiver uncertainly.

Tony smiled genuinely. "Nope; really happened. They'll tell you all about it, I'm sure."

David had never been able to resist a puzzle. Mind made up, he opened a search engine and began to enter search parameters.

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"…and then she said, 'was it supposed to do that?'" The undercover agent and the smuggler both burst into slightly drunken laughter, drawing eyes from all over the beach bar they'd been in all afternoon.

"Ai, Tony," Fuentes said, breathless from laughter. "You should go into stand up."

"God, no. It's bad enough when Dad makes me present stuff in meetings. I swear it feels like I'm giving evidence in court."

"Well, if you hate it so much, Why'd you do it? You should quit and come work for me."

"Work for you?" Tony snorted. "Doing what, serving drinks on your boat?"

"No; you could run your own boat. I've been thinking about getting a second one. All you'd have to do is cruise between the islands and the mainland, make out you're just a playboy, and deliver a few packages here and there. I could pay well."

"What, for being a delivery boy? These packages wouldn't happen to be illegal in any way, would they?"

"That a problem? You don't exactly strike me as the law abiding type."

"Well, I'm not, really; but I draw the line at drugs. I've had way too many friends messed up to help get the stuff into the country."

"I do carry drugs sometimes; but I wouldn't ask you to if you're so against it. Cuban cigars hardly count, do they? No; it's jewels, passengers, stuff people need to get into the US without going through customs. Next week I got some crate of special incense for a mosque in Miami to deliver. Feds won't let them import it legally because it's made from some endangered bush or something."

"Really? Well… I don't know. 'S not like I object to bringing in weird smelly stuff, but my dad would hit the roof if he found out I was doing anything illegal; and he's got the kind of lawyers that make grown men wet their pants."

"How much longer is your vacation?"

"Two weeks. I had to promise my baby sister I'd be home for her birthday."

"The one with the tats? She hot?"

"She's related to me, isn't she?" said Tony with a grin. "Sure, if you like black pigtails, plaid miniskirts and knee length platform boots. Kate's probably more your type, if a bit more uptight; but she is a lawyer, so probably not a good idea."

"Well, then why don't you come on this delivery with me? Then if you think it's more fun than sitting in boardrooms all day, maybe you can explain stuff to your dad. Like, you found something you like more than working for him. Tell him you wanna set up your own business or something."

"Ok. Could be fun; and if it's only incense we're moving, where's the harm?"

Even as he went to get more drinks, Tony rejoiced inwardly. He was fairly sure mosques didn't use incense; and even if they did, the coincidence was too great. It seemed lady luck was smiling on him. All he had to do was go along for the ride and have One, Two and Three crash the party and disable the bomb before they made delivery. Ditch it over the side of the boat after, maybe, in case it could be repaired. What were a few three eyed fish, compared to a terrorist atrocity.

And then… and then do whatever they told him to do next. That is, if they didn't decide to kill him as soon as the mission was done.

Aww, boss; I really, really wish you were here, he thought, feeling the familiar stabbing pain through his heart.

Tony had always had a tendency to get too deep into his undercover work. He liked getting the chance to play other people; he could be as eccentric or as ordinary as he wanted and still know that he didn't have to stay in the role forever. He tended to forget that it was only a part he was playing; forget who he really was.

Then, when he joined NCIS, it was suddenly like he had an anchor, something to ground him in the real world; something to keep him from getting lost in the character. Gibbs, and Abby, and Ducky, even Kate and McGee were just… there, always, waiting for him. Worrying, even. Wanting him home.

That was the crux of it, he knew. Suddenly, someone cared that he come back fit and healthy, in mind as well as body. He remembered the times he'd gone missing undercover; his team had searched tirelessly until they found him and then fussed over him when he was safe. Gibbs always made him let Ducky check him over for injuries, and Abby would hug him and tell him off for worrying her, and Kate and McGee would tease more gently than normal, with those smiles on their faces that said they didn't really mean it. And Gibbs… Gibbs would drive him back to his own home, and tuck him into the spare room, and watch over him for the nightmares that always followed undercover ops. He'd wake him up as soon as he started to thrash, and calm him down, and take him down to the basement to sand the boat and drink bourbon for a couple of hours until he could sleep again. Then, in the morning, Gibbs would wake him with coffee contaminated with milk and sugar and make him breakfast before driving him back to work.

Tony had never known that level of care and attention from anyone. He imagined that was what having a real parent must be like; the kind he'd always wanted. And he was never going to have that again.

That was why he'd given Fiver the message. If anything went wrong on this operation, he knew that Gibbs would stop at nothing to find the people responsible; and even if Tony himself were dead, his Boss would take care of the mission in his memory.

Semper Fi, he thought, with a wry smile, as he carried the drinks back to the unsuspecting Carmine.

"Hey, did I ever tell you about this girl I dated once? She made this kind of squeaking noise…"

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Not a lot happening in this chapter, but I needed to set up the next one. Let me know what you thought.


	11. Paranoia

Disclaimer: I don't own it

A/N: Once again, huge thanks for your wonderful reviews, guys. It's great to know so many of you are still following this fic.

I should also probably mention now that this is not going to turn into a romance in any way; there's just a bit of flirting in this chapter. It amused me.

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Chapter 11: Paranoia

So far, so good, thought Tony, dropping into a seat at the bar to await his new 'friend'. Carmine Fuentes was a surprisingly soft touch for such a successful smuggler; he was practically eating out of Tony's hand after only a few hours.

Wish you could see it, Boss, Tony thought idly. Some of my best work, and Fiver was the only one watching. He'd become rather fond of the younger man, in a McGeeish kind of way; probably just because it made him feel at home to have someone familiar around who needed him to look out for them. Tim himself had never really appreciated Tony's attention and teaching; he preferred to listen to Gibbs. Mind you, if he had a choice, Tony would rather trust Gibbs than himself too. Nevertheless, he'd tried to impart a little of his trademark DiNozzo wisdom to the Probie.

More out of habit than anything, Tony let his eyes stray across the other clientele, scanning for anyone who looked dangerous and the least dressed women automatically. His gaze found a beautiful twenty something with long dark curls, dressed in a skimpy green bikini top and miniskirt, revealing a lot of creamy latte skin. She met the look unflinchingly, a smile pulling at her lips. Tony felt his own copying of their own volition. This one was more than she appeared; and he'd always liked mysterious women.

She rose from her seat and made her way over, rolling her hips more than strictly necessary. Tony's eyes narrowed a little; she moved like a predator. This chick was dangerous. The only question was whose side she was on.

"Ola, Senor," she purred seductively. "Mind if I join you?"

"Never, Senorita; though I gotta wonder what a girl like you is doing in a place like this."

She leaned closer, voice dropping to a husky whisper. "How can you be sure what kind of girl I am, Special Agent DiNozzo?"

"Why, by the way you move, sweetheart. Clearly, you know why I'm here; what agency are you with?"

She looked amused. "What makes you think I'm part of an agency?"

"Because if you were a terrorist, I'd be dead or in thumbscrews by now. You're not part of an American agency, so I'm guessing you're… Mossad? Here to make sure the operation goes smoothly to protect your mole?"

She looked impressed. "Very good, Tony. Gibbs taught you well."

"Bossman doesn't teach. You have to observe; something we're both good at. You were one of the girls on the quay when I arrived; and I assume you've been keeping me under surveillance ever since."

"As you said; I want to see this operation go smoothly. There is a great deal depending on your success."

"Well, miss…" He raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You may call me Ziva."

"Ziva. Why'd you decide to approach me? I'm assuming it's not my animal magnetism, although that probably doesn't hurt."

"Oh, definitely not. The bug I planted in your bedroom has been very… illuminating. Do you always sleep naked?"

"Don't you?"

"Only when I have something to keep me warm." Her hand strayed down to his thigh.

"You're good," said Tony, smiling at her; but his eyes had gone cold. "You almost got me off the subject. Why now, Ziva?" The hand was abruptly withdrawn.

"To warn you," she said, suddenly businesslike. "Someone is searching for your true identity; and we have not been able to backtrace the computer. So far, we have been able to block access to the relevant files; but it is only a matter of time before the searcher finds something tying you to NCIS."

"You think it's Al Quaeda?"

"Who else could it be?"

"Oh, I can think of one or two. Thanks for the heads up."

"This is as much my mission as yours, Tony. You do not need to thank me for doing my duty." She pulled a biro from her purse and scribbled on her napkin. "My encrypted cell number. Just in case you need to contact us."

"Thanks. Oh, and when you see Ari, give him my sympathy, will ya?"

Her brow furrowed. "Sympathy?"

"Next time Gibbs sees the bastard, he's a dead man. No one messes with his people; and this makes three times now. I wouldn't wanna have Gibbs after my ass."

"Gibbs has bigger worries at present, Tony. Director Morrow is replacing you; and he is less than happy about it."

Tony's eyes softened a little. "Like I said; boss won't let anyone mess with his team, not even Morrow."

"Then let us hope he doesn't find out about this operation until it is over; or he could blow your cover spectacularly."

"That's the way Gibbs does most things."

Ziva smiled softly. "Clearly, you are very skilled at imitating him. Do not fail."

"I'll try not to."

"If you choose to act, it must be to succeed. There is no try." She stalked out, hips still swaying provocatively.

"Thank you, Yoda," said Tony under his breath, admiring her ass.

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Tony could feel the adrenaline starting to build as he followed Carmine aboard his yacht, the _Isabella,_ to set out for their cargo pickup point. One and Two had already thoroughly bugged it while Tony kept the owner occupied at a party days before; and Fiver was tracking it with GPS. After they picked up the nuke, the rest of Sigma team would intercept the Isabella, disarm the bomb and toss what was left over the side. Then the four CIA operatives would leave Fuentes to face the terrorists he'd failed to deliver to while they hightailed it back to pick up Fiver and then flew out to debrief in Chicago. Tony just really, really hoped it would be that simple.

"Tonight's the night, Tony boy," said Fuentes eagerly. "Excited?"

"You kidding? Last time I was this buzzed was when I played college ball; I broke my leg in the fourth quarter."

"Ouch! No chance of that happening tonight. Let's go move some incense."

The sun was almost set as they arrived at the jetty where their clients were waiting, Tony had to admire Carmine's skill. He had successfully evaded all other boats on the water, and clearly knew the waterways like the back of his hand.

The small cluster of figures around the crate that held the bomb called out to the yacht as Tony threw a mooring rope to them.

"Fuentes?"

"Tariq," Carmine replied cheerfully. "This is Tony; he's helping me out on the delivery."

The shadowy figure examined Tony critically in the dying light. "American?" He asked, disdainfully.

"That a problem?" The undercover agent asked lightly.

"If you want us to trust you."

"Hey! Tony's Italian, like me," Carmine protested. "I trust him; and if that's not good enough I can turn right back around and let you find someone else to carry your cargo. Capice?"

"Do so, and you will not get your money," said Tariq, holding up a rucksack clearly bulging with something. "You will get the rest on delivery."

"I got plenty of less picky clients," said Fuentes, although he seemed unable to take his eyes from the bag. "Tony stays."

"Very well. But if he proves unworthy of your trust, we will be greatly displeased."

"He won't," said Fuentes firmly. Tony felt a frisson of guilt; Carmine wasn't all bad, and he'd be lucky to get out of the area with his skin intact after this.

The jetski hoist attached to the back of the yacht was utilised to lift the crate onto the deck and Fuentes accepted the bag of cash eagerly. He checked the contents before they left; satisfied, he piloted the boat out to sea to make his delivery.

"Paranoid much?" Tony remarked, as he opened the throttle to make for the mainland.

"Ah, they're all like that the first time they do something illegal; convinced you're gonna turn out to be CIA or something. You just have to tell them you won't take any crap."

This time, the guilt was more than a frisson. Tony knew for a fact that the boat containing One, Two and Three was heading right for them on an intercept course, guided by the GPS tracker they'd planted on the boat. He stayed with Fuentes, asking questions about his business, all the while listening out for the sound of a second engine.

I was about an hour later that the _Isabella_'s engine spluttered and died, leaving them floating becalmed in the midnight ocean. One had done something to the engine that allowed him to cut off the fuel supply remotely at any time while they were doing the bugging.

"What's going on?" Asked Fuentes, desperately, trying to restart the boat. "She's never done this before…"

In the sudden silence, the engine of a small but powerful motor launch sounded very loud as it approached at speed.

"I'm sorry, Carmine," said Tony genuinely, in Italian. "I had no choice." Fuentes stared at him, uncomprehending.

"Tony… what have you done?"

The boat engine dropped to idling and three figures climbed aboard the Isabella. Tony turned to call out to them… and froze.

"Good evening, Special Agent DiNozzo," drawled Ari casually, as if they were meeting in the street. "How is being dead suiting you these days?"

The two men at his back were both holding automatic weapons; and both were trained on Tony's heart.

Two words echoed hollowly in his head. _Oh, crap._

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Gotta love a cliff. Any questions, comments, flames, or threats of disembowelling for slow updates welcome.


	12. Loose Ends

Disclaimer: I don't own it

Maxennce, I think you need to reread the end of chapter 7. And as stated in the concurrent story Losing You, this story breaks off from cannon BEFORE Hometown Hero, 2x19.

Of course I want threats of disembowelling! It's not a cliff unless I'm being threatened by a painful death until I resolve it; it shows people care about what's happening in the story. I was once consigned to an ice floe in the Arctic for being too slow. Brrr!

I should probably warn people; this chapter is pretty violent. Not much graphic gore, though.

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Chapter 12: Loose Ends

One, Two and Three were all prepared for their mission, dressed in black with all their tools and equipment stowed in their boat. They waited in tense but professional silence for Fiver's signal. Finally, the ringing of a cell phone broke the silence.

"Three," the sniper answered curtly.

"Target is moving; you're good to go," said Five.

"Understood." He hung up, and gave a swift nod to Two, who started the boat with ease.

Five shadowy figures used the sound to mask their approach as they ran forwards, carrying assault weapons.

One was dead before he saw them, taking a spray of bullets to the chest. Two was hit so hard that he toppled over the side and vanished into the dark water. Three dropped flat and began to return fire, using the side of the boat as cover. He managed to take out one of the attackers with a shot to the chest; but was still hopelessly outnumbered. A round shattered the bone in his right shoulder, causing his fingers to go slack and drop the weapon as he cried out in agony. He could only stare up at them as, with a curt order in Arabic, two of the men hauled him bodily from the boat. The pain from his shattered joint whited out all coherent thought, but he just managed to stay conscious long enough to see the smile on Ari's face as he placed the barrel of his gun against his forehead.

"Go to hell," he ground out defiantly.

"Oh, I will," Haswari assured him, amused, and pulled the trigger.

A bare couple of minutes later, punctuated only by three soft splashes as the bodies were dumped overboard, the boat pulled away from the jetty, guided by Sigma team's own GPS locators towards the _Isabella_ and its deadly cargo. A single man remained behind, with the sole purpose of removing the last member of Sigma Team on dry land.

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David had been anxiously watching the blip on his computer screen that was the _Isabella_ as it headed for the pickup point. Tony himself had no idea where it was, so they were relying on the GPS to guide the team to the boat before it reached the drop off point. He was also monitoring other signals in the area, looking out for other vessels that could interfere with their plans.

It was with relief that he saw the blip come to a stop at a small, remote jetty; he put in the call to the others and then sat back to keep monitoring the situation.

Fiver's efforts to discover Tony's true identity had been stopped abruptly the previous day by one of the rare, risky phone calls made between them.

"Hello?"

"Someone has been a naughty little snoop, Fiver; and I really hope it was you, because if it wasn't, we've got problems."

"What d'you mean, a snoop?"

"I was informed today by a dangerously hot chick in a very small bikini that someone's been searching online for my details. Ring any bells?"

"Oh… uh… well… um…"

"I'll take that as a yes. Seriously, kid, where's the trust?"

"I trust you: I was just… curious."

"Yeah? Well, you heard what that did to the cat. You could have compromised the whole op! I really thought you had more sense."

David cringed at the disappointment in his voice. "I'm sorry, Tony," he said, quietly.

"Never apologise, Probie, it's a sign of weakness. Just tell me you'll never do anything that dumb ever again."

"I won't, Tony, I promise."

"Cross your heart and hope to die?"

"Absolutely."

"Pinkie swear with the phone?"

Awkwardly, David hooked his little finger around the handset. "I swear."

"Repeat after me; if I ever do anything like this again…"

Obediently, Fiver repeated it.

"I will run through the streets of the nearest town wearing only a smile and singing Frank Sinatra at the top of my voice."

Fiver was halfway through the sentence before he realised what he was saying.

"Uh, Tony, don't you think that'll draw attention?"

"You can always get drunk first and tell people you're with a bachelor party. That's what I… would do, if I ever found myself in that situation."

"Please, don't tell me you really did that," David pleaded.

"Don't ask, don't tell, Fiverino. Ciao."

For the fifth time that night, David checked that all nonessential equipment was packed up ready for transport as he watched the two dots on his computer slowly converge on one another until they met in a section of otherwise clear ocean. He heaved a sigh of relief and was just about to make contact with Tony when one of his motion sensors went off. Someone was approaching the dilapidated three-room apartment where he was set up; swiftly, he pulled up his own external video surveillance and saw a single man dressed all in black bending to pick the lock on his door.

"Oh, no," he whispered. This was too much of a coincidence to be a simple robbery; this must mean that something was wrong. The web search… how could he have been so stupid?

Fiver grabbed his gun and moved towards the entrance just as the lock clicked open and the man burst in, also armed. He took one look at the frightened computer geek and lashed out with a foot with balletic grace, knocking the weapon from his hands. The terrorist sneered in contempt.

"At least the others put up a fight; it is no matter that Yusef was killed in the struggle. One man is plenty to take out a pathetic child and his toys."

Oh, God, they killed the others… David looked into the man's dark eyes and saw his death there. But the terrorist's grip was lax on his gun.

Fiver felt some previously unknown instinct take over and darted forwards to punch the man in the face, grabbing at his gun arm as he did. The terrorist grunted in surprise; but terror and desperation had lent his opponent strength he didn't know he had. David rammed his knee into his crotch and struggled to get a grip on the weapon. The terrorist, doubled over and nauseated by the ultimate pain a man can suffer, managed to keep hold of it; and after a few seconds of confusion, it went off.

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It was Carmine who finally broke the silence aboard the yacht.

"Special Agent?" He asked, incredulously. "You're a Fed? You set me up, you bastard!"

"As a matter of fact, Anthony here is a former NCIS agent, currently working for the CIA in an attempt to foil a bomb threat. Such a pity they had to fake your death to get you; I understand Gibbs has been quite distraught."

"What did you do with the rest of my team, Ari?" Asked Tony, levelly.

"Ah, your famous loyalty to your friends; except Carmine here, of course. The four other operatives who accompanied you here were… surplus to requirements."

Tony closed his eyes, knowing what that meant. "You didn't have to kill them, you son of a bitch," he growled.

"Oh, but I did. We couldn't afford any of them alerting your handlers that the mission was unsuccessful just yet."

"So, you took four lives to buy yourself a few hours?" Said Tony contemptuously.

"Five," said Ari, drawing a handgun.

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Two cliffs for the price of one! I'm really spoiling you guys.

There's only going to be one or two more chapters in this story; it's mutated into a trilogy somewhere in the warped and twisted pathways of my brain.


	13. Dead Men Tell No Tales

Disclaimer: I don't own it

A/N: Sorry this is so late, guys; I started a new job last week and I've been staring at databases for nine hours a day for very little money. After that, I really haven't wanted to start writing when I got home. Updates on the new instalment will slow down to once a week at best until I'm used to it, I expect.

Incidentally...

WOOHOO! 200 reviews! You guys rock so hard you're causing earthquakes!

Welcome to the last chapter in this story...

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Chapter 13: Dead Men Tell No Tales

Fiver watched in horror as the terrorist's eyes, already filled with pain, went wide and glassy just inches from his own. Warm, sticky liquid was pouring over the hacker's hands and he stepped away as the man crumpled to his knees before falling to the floor, face down in a rapidly growing pool of his own blood.

Fiver felt sick. He couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears and his own mind repeating a single word over and over.

Murderer murderer _murderer_ MURDERER **MURDERER**

It was too much. Moments later, he was down on his hands and knees and vomiting everything he'd eaten in the last week.

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"Five," said Ari, drawing a handgun. "One of my men was killed in the struggle. Now, Carmine, I think it's about time you fulfilled your contract, don't you?" He produced a small transmitter and pressed a button. "Your boat will start now."

"But... What's going on? What bomb threat? It's just a crate of incense!"

Ari laughed aloud. "Ah, how very gullible you are for a career criminal. Would you like to explain, Anthony, or shall I?"

"It's a nuke, Carmine," Tony stated baldly. "This bastard is Al Quaeda; that's why I'm here. He fakes being a double agent for Mossad so he can feed false information and get intel in return. And he has a grudge against my boss."

"Hardly a grudge, Anthony. He merely has the misfortune of reminding me of my father; a sentiment I'm sure you can appreciate. And the greatest pain I could give Gibbs was to take one of his precious team from him."

"And you picked me?" Tony snorted.

"Don't underestimate your own importance, my friend."

Tony's eyes blazed suddenly. "I'm not your friend. It's Special Agent DiNozzo to you, scumbag."

"Mustafa, Assan; restrain Anthony for me, if you would be so good. I think he's going to be tiresome. And Carmine, get us moving again, if you would?" Ari continued casually. "We are on a tight schedule."

"If you're going to beat him up, I want to help," the Italian said firmly, heading for the helm. He added a string of derogatory and mostly anatomically impossible comments about Tony's mother in his native tongue, and then spat in his direction.

Ari chuckled. "Perhaps later. Business before pleasure, my friend."

One of Ari's men put down his weapon and approached Tony with a set of cuffs while the other kept him covered with his gun. Tony assessed his chances; both were bigger than him, looked alert and apparently would like nothing better than to shoot him. He needed to play this smart if he was to have any chance of completing the mission; and the smart thing to do was bide his time. He held out his wrists in front of him with a wry smile.

"Nice try," sneered Assan, spinning him roughly around to secure his hands behind his back and then frisking him thoroughly and none too gently. Tony cursed mentally as his wallet, keys, watch, shades and cell hit the water with a splash; but cheered that his knife had been missed.

"Take the belt, too," said Ari casually. "The CIA tend to provide multiple backup transmitters."

_Damn_, Tony thought, with feeling. "What, you want to watch my pants fall down now?" He asked aggressively. "Really Ari, I had no idea... oof!"

The terrorist frisking Tony kicked his legs from under him, making him fall heavily to the deck and see stars as his head glanced the rail.

Ari only smiled. "Ah, Anthony; such vanity. It's a miracle that Caitlyn hasn't shot you yet."

Tony managed to raise his head enough to glare at him, ignoring the dizziness it caused. "Don't you dare talk about them, asshole," he ground out.

"But we have so many mutual friends, Anthony. How is Gerald these days? Shoulder still bothering him?"

"Well, _someone_ did put a nine mil round through it at point blank range; oh, that's right, it was you," he replied sarcastically. "How's the shoulder Gibbs shot you in?"

"It still aches when it rains. Much as I imagine the scar on your left leg does."

"Someone's been eating a lot of carrots; that girl of yours has great eyesight, if she can make out my scars on a mini camera."

"Ziva has many talents. And you gave her a lot of opportunity for study."

"I never disappoint the ladies."

"It's such a pity that Marta had to die before she could learn that first hand. I understand she was looking forwards to becoming a black widow."

Tony's eyes blazed suddenly, lit from within by the fires of rage. "And to think, I almost felt sorry for you," he said, a dangerously feral grin twisting his features. "You're a dead man, Haswari. There is no agency in the world that can protect you now."

The terrorist chuckled, genuinely amused. "From Gibbs? He does not even know you are alive."

Tony's smile grew. "I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you."

"Gibbs is very good at his job; but he is not omniscient. Your faith is touching, however." The double agent turned away.

"Semper Fi, Ari," Tony called after him. "If I don't kill you, he will."

He got Assan's boot digging into his gut for his trouble; winded, Tony could only suck air back into his lungs and try not to puke as he was tied firmly to the railing in a sitting position.

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David knelt on the floor next to the pool of puke, managing to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead with a shaking hand. The little piece of his brain that was still functioning through the fog knew that he was in shock and he needed to snap out of it; but was overwhelmed by the horror he felt.

David had just killed a man; and it seemed likely he was the only member of Sigma team still alive to complete the mission. And all of the deaths were his fault, because he couldn't keep his curiosity in check. Tony, who had been so good to him, and One, Two and Three, who had been prepared to risk their lives for this mission, all dead; and he was to blame. Soon, he'd most likely be responsible for the success of a terrorist atrocity that would make 9/11 look like a grazed knee.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? He was just a computer geek; he couldn't take out a terrorist plot all by himself; he couldn't even do his own job properly.

He'd have to contact the CIA, of course, whispered that sole logical voice, and tell them to alert the mainland authorities about the danger. And he had one more duty; to send Tony's final message.

That was the thought which gave him the strength to rise, grabbing onto furniture for support, to find the plain white envelope. He opened it with unsteady hands, not sure what he expected; but whatever it was, Tony's last message was not it. Instead of some last declaration of affection or gratitude, he found the most cryptic code Tony had been able to come up with.

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Whatever else you wanted to say about Carmine Fuentes, there was no doubt that he was good at what he did. The _Isabella_ cruised through the creeks and sandbanks of the Everglades as easily as an alligator, sometimes through water so shallow that Tony could feel the keel scraped along the bottom.

It was almost noon by the time she glided to a stop beside a rickety looking jetty, where three of Ari's men waited with a handcart. Efficiently, they unloaded the crate and transferred it to a waiting van.

Ari collected a bulging bag from one of the other men and turned to Carmine.

"Thank you, my friend. You are as skilled as we had heard; and now you will receive the rest of your reward."

"About that; I think a bomb is worth a little more than a crate of incense," Fuentes began.

"And you think that means you deserve a larger reward for your trouble? But of course, Carmine. I must say, I found your lack of empathy... refreshing."

Fuentes shrugged. "The more worried the Feds are about you, the less interested they'll be in me. I'm going to go spend the profits in Cuba where there's no extradition."

"Oh, I assure you, my friend; where you're going, there is no chance of return." Ari produced a gun from the bag and shot him point blank in the head.

"What, is it my turn already?" Asked Tony, falsely cheerful.

"Oh, no, Anthony. Not just yet. Just in case Gibbs does become aware of the situation, I will need some... what is the word? Ah, yes; leverage." He turned to his men and gave an order in Arabic.

Less than a minute later, the quay was abandoned as the van sped along a dirt track inland while the _Isabella_ headed further up the creek, to the heavily vegetated and alligator infested area that would be her final resting place.

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To Be Continued...

(In case anyone hasn't watched Reveille recently, Marta was the Swedish jogger who threatened to kill Tony if Kate refused to tell Ari how to spot Marine One.)

Your feedback is always appreciated; especially if it involves gruesome death threats. They really motivate me. Shiny gold stars for the most imaginative.


End file.
